Rain.

It's raining outside. It is 12:50am, I've always been fond of the sound of rain drops colliding with the window sill, the 'ssshhh' of car tires on wet cement, the fresh scent floating in the air. The smell of bark, the glistening grass and the earth; black-brown, soaked, & thriving with life...
Rainy days are perfect for 'la grasse matinee', hanging out in your sweatpants, watching re-runs of Louis Defunes 'les gendarmes' (all of them), or cuddling on the sofa with a juicy book.
I remember waking up on rainy mornings, my ex curled around me, like a question mark. His hands around my waist, his chin resting in the crevice between my neck and shoulder. When the light was still an uncertain blue outside, the rain singing so sweetly, and my love so close to me; These were the days my heart felt like it may fail me. Such happiness was a sin, such bliss filled me with guilt...
I'd wake up and do pancakes. We topped them with blueberries, I'd feed baby girl, and his brother's 2 girls. I'd talk to the sister in law, we'd laugh, do the dishes... He would go on the terrasse, smoke and sip on his coffee; black, no sugar, no milk. Baby girl would try to follow him but he'd never smoke in front of her.
'Daddy?' She'd say, quizzically, looking up to me with her blue-if-it's-a-boy eyes.
'Daddy be back shhhooon.' I'd say in my baby voice.
Other days, I'd get up at 6am, jump in the shower and get ready to go to work. I'd leave him, still sleeping, his body still warm.

I find solace in the sky's outpour; The threads of my life are finally coming together, I'm happy when I wake up, when I eat, when I breathe, when I write... I look forward to meeting new loves and fussing about my make up before a date. Even more; I am happy that when I wake, I am only responsible for my own happiness & not someone elses. for the past few years, I was carrying other men's burdens (& it seemed like I chose men with truck full of problems) & my back was too heavy, I couldn't concentrate on my own contentment.

Baby Steps, Baby steps...